The Crew: Prologue

by **Vizayas** on June 6th, 2015, 4:46 am

58th of Spring, 508
Vizayas had planned to go for a run today. He also planned to find a few faces to imitate and practice with. It was imperative that he looked his best, while exerting himself today if possible. He stood on his toes while his arms shot up and began to stretch. He needed to 'loosen up' a little and get his blood flowing.

He raised his arms out, holding them there as he swirled them forward in a circular motion. Around, and around. The muscles in his arms quickly started to burn after just a few rotations, so he switched the behavior and went in opposite directions. The swirls were narrow at first, but he brought them into large, sweeping arcs shortly afterwards. Arms aching, he decided it was time to stretch his legs.

Kicking his back leg out, he bent his front leg forward. The knee jutted out as he focused on keeping himself balanced. He was very weak, so he had to support himself on his knuckle, his hand pressing against the floorboards. He rose and fell, pushing up with his knee to strain the muscles and loosen them up. Then, he angled the leg that he had kicked out inward and switched legs, kicking out the leg that he had been previously leaning on. Repeating the up and down motion, he could feel the muscles aching in them just as well as his arms - though the soreness he had created in his arms was already starting to dissipate.

Standing, he let out a heavy sigh as he came to the end of his stretching. His arms fell towards his knees, though he caught his left arm and brought it up to his head to brush his hair back. Right, need to comb it. He moved over to his desk against the far wall, where his pack with all the tools of the trade could be found sitting on the floor against it.

Vizayas bent his knees and crouched down, his left elbow on his knee. His hand slipped into the container, and he could feel the softness of the fabric as his fingers snaked through the pack looking for what he needed in the unorganized mess. After a brief moment of rummaging, the comb came right out between his index finger and his tall finger.

All things have their purpose, just like combed hair. Vizayas thought as he shifted his grip of the light and eight-pronged object made from the bones of some unfortunate creature. He stood up and righted himself as he stared into his own reflection against the glass frame of a painting on the wall. He had no mirror in his room, but this worked to a certain extent. As he looked into the glass, he couldn't see much more than an outline of his head in the dim light, let alone much of the painting behind it.

It was enough to comb his hair. He brought the comb up and positioned it at the start of his brow. Running it through his unkempt black hair, it caught on a few tangles but nothing too painful. He was still getting used to this - he never used to comb it, but his mother had asked him to 'start looking proper' and 'show his age' so he had little choice in the matter. Of course, he could disobey her, but he would rather not for something so trivial.

Back and forth, he repeated the motion, his hair adhering to the ridged shape of the comb slowly but surely. It couldn't be perfect, as parts stuck up here and there, but it was better than no effort at all. A little water wouldn't hurt either, but he didn't have motivation to go find a well and bring up a pitchers worth. He kneeled and set the comb on the floor.

He wanted to plan ahead. Snapping winds would surely ruin his hair as he ran, and it was the tactical thing to do to prevent the wind from screwing up his hair. He didn't know if the jolt of each step would mess it up, it might, but he wanted to try. Standing up again, he opened his lungs to take a sharp breath. His brow furrowed in a concentrating gaze, imagining the 'feeling' that he gets when the energy pools in his chest. As the air entered and began to intertwine its djed with his own, the weave of djed that began to form in his lungs took a gaseous shape.

Bringing both of his hands up to his mouth and cupping them together, he blew into them. The gaseous material was beginning to take shape. The air in his lungs depleted quickly, and soon the entirety of what he had created lay nestled in his palms. The translucent material glowed in his hands as he cupped them tightly together, focusing on molding it into yet another form.

by **Vizayas** on June 6th, 2015, 4:46 am

His palms rubbed together, the warmth of his breath and the tingling sensation that one gets from the use of magic upon them. He focused on smoothing it together, rolling it into a ball and malleable gel-like substance. Opening his palms once more to see the result of his labor, his eyes began to fixate on the beauty of this magic. The misty swirling glob that he intended to use would be useful, surely. It felt strange, to feel the air in the room on the underside of his hand, but not in his palms where the magic seemed to prevent the air from passing.

He brought his hands up to his temples and began to work the material through his locks, picking at them with light strokes as the material departed onto them. His nimble and careful hands so careful not to go too deep or part the hair too much. The task of this shield at the same time setting in with the purpose of its being: protect from wind and djed.

Vizayas ran his fingers through the remainder of his mop of hair, until the substance grew too thin to spread any thinner. Deciding he was finished, he brought both his palms to his slightly open mouth and blew sharply into them, wondering if his breath would do anything to it. His eyes lit up in wonder as the rest of the djed-laden material scattered into the air and he watched it separate into a shower of star-like sparkles before dissipating, their energy too thin to sustain their descent. He guessed that the djed of his breath must be different from the djed of the air, which is why it didn't work.

Vizayas gazed into his reflection, the shimmering layer of magic on his hair the first thing he could see. His eyes cringed. It looks silly. At least most cannot see it. He noted that he might be perhaps a little vain in this regard. His combed hair was still intact, and to him that was all that mattered.

Vizayas hopped towards the door, giddy that he was about to go and have some fun in the city. He didn't bother to check in with anyone - his father was asleep, and his mother was doing whatever she did out there already. She woke up a lot earlier than the both of them. Not wanting to wake his father, he slowed his movement through the hall. His father's room was just across from his, and the walls were somewhat thin. Sound carried easily through the house. The floorboards wanted to creak with every step as he walked on his toes, slowly lowering his feet. All this did was draw out the creaking, and it was painful for him to listen to.

Vizayas wasn't very good at sneaking around.

Eventually, he made it to the living area where the door to the outside world loomed, beams of light getting split into red streaks between the door and the doorframe. He walked over to the door, and opened it. Light assaulted his gaze as he strode outside, blinding him momentarily as he struggled to make out the details of his new surroundings.

Streams of light burst themselves against the morning sun horizon, painting the cities shadows away with hues of orange, red, and pink. Every dainty little cloud in the sky seemed to be arranged in a neat circular pattern, moving in unison. From the cobbled streets below, Vizayas watched, mesmerized by what was going on above. Twisting and turning, the clouds whirled and weaved together. Once spread thin, it now collected itself into an ominous, dark little cloud.

Vizayas pried his eyes off it for just a moment to glance around himself - the house was in a new place, the markets it seemed. Everyone in the city had no idea what was going on. He was the only one paying attention to this. Women in colorful bulky dresses strolled by, and men in their rainbow accentuated coats busily worked at whatever trade they were in. Vizayas even caught the rare sight of a courier weaving through the crowd, his eye following him for but a moment before the boy disappeared. Returning his eyes to the dark mass above, he thought it looked like it might rain. But it was small, like a miniature cloud. Whatever was happening, Vizayas was wasting a lot of time on trying to figure it out.

Then, a phalanx of feathered creatures flew overhead. They squawked and honked, flying towards and underneath the cloud. To a kid, entertainment was never hard to find in Alvadas. The flap of their wings entertained Vizayas, and he thought he might get closer to one if they would land. They didn't look like they would, but he hoped they might. He started counting them one at a time, until he knew there were nine in total. They were majestic, flying as if they were a well coordinated unit. He watched as one fell back, and another flew forward to take its place - were they taking turns as leader? Vizayas thought it was nice to see such a thing in nature. It was interesting, to think, that they support one another and take turns guiding one another.

Suddenly, a flash of light. Crack! Vizayas' eyes filled with bright white light and the day darkened, prompting Vizayas to turn his head away. The crowd around him froze at first to glance at the sky, an ominous boom carrying itself throughout the street and rattling everything in sight. Then, when his eyes recovered he looked up to try and spot the geese again - one was aflame, plummeting towards the earth as a fireball. The clouds above that were once dark began to disperse again, slowly retreating to their prior and unusual circular formation. A perfectly normal day in Alvadas.

by **Vizayas** on June 6th, 2015, 4:47 am

Vizayas watched the bird as it fell to the earth, a glimmering streak in the sky. A sad sight. Why did that bird have to die so suddenly? So randomly? It set a pretense. Could lightning suddenly strike him one day if he were walking the streets? If he one day learned to fly? Why would Ionu scare him like this? Then, he returned his thoughts to the subject of seeing it up close, watching for the location of where it fell. This could be the highlight of my day. I might as well go and see.

He had intended to run, and run he did. He dipped his head forward as his legs rose and fell, creating an awkward running gait. He didn't mind at all how silly he looked, he was just trying to get out and live a little. He focused on weaving his way between the crowds, and his hair seemed more or less stable. It still bounced to and fro, but he was surprised when the wind running through it pushed it back. His face contorted into a serious glare. It gave him a sense of failure, that he had failed the most basic task with his shielding. Wind must have different djed than air... the complexity of these things always throws me for a loop. He shook his thoughts away, and forgave and forgot. He was too busy with the task at hand. He was just beginning to grasp these concepts, so it wasn't too defeating.

He wanted to find out where the bird landed, see what became of it, which was in the direction he was running. The streak had disappeared behind some buildings, almost a full city block away. Vizayas' jaw went slack as he breathed in and out, the rush of air in his lungs causing them to strain from his movements. He endured, and the pitter patter of his heart started to increase. With every step, the soreness in his legs intensified by some small amount. But still, he kept going.

After about two chimes of running at a moderate pace, he had made a good deal of progress. However, he was exhausted. The air was like fire, with every breath. His legs were in pain. His heart raced. He couldn't keep it up any more. why was he so weak? He didn't like being this weak...

He was now down the street from the market, and around the corner. He was on the same street that he had seen the bird fall earlier. The streets were mostly empty, save for a lone man that seemed to have purple smoke billowing from his mouth towards the sky above him. As Vizayas made progress down the street, the man brought up a pipe to his lips and took a huff. He stared at Vizayas, eyes and head following him, unnerving him greatly. Prying his eyes off the man, Vizayas spotted a smoldering heap out in front of him.

Vizayas made his way closer to it, and then he gazed upon it. It was, by all accounts, a perfectly roasted goose. It looked quite succulent, even looked to be dashed with a spice of some sort. Vizayas sniffed, and by the smell of it he discerned that it would be quite delectable. Then, his ears caught the sounds of a flurry of footsteps marching up to meet him. He gazed up from the prize he had found, only to witness a gaggle of miscreants that he had never seen more motley in shaggy dress, stature, and demeanor.

The center vagabond was a rather rotund child for his circumstances, clad in rags from head to toe. He had a smell that seemed to overpower the scent of a cooked meal, even from, by Vizayas' estimate, the five feet away he was standing. He looked quite fierce, and he seemed to carry a grimace that made even Vizayas cautious about him.

Left from the center, there was a smaller boy. Quite skinny, disheveled hair. He didn't look happy, in fact Vizayas could visibly tell the kid was starving. The way he glanced at the goose by Vizayas' feet, and the ragged attire. He looked poor, but he looked wiry and capable of holding his own should the situation call for it.

Then on the right, there was a kid keenly staring at him with the smuggest of smirks. His arms were crossed, and he looked somewhat smart. Poor, but smart. He stood a full foot behind the brute that seemed to be their leader, yet standing out just enough to get a look at the prize the group was after.

Just as quickly as Vizayas had summed up the trio and opened his mouth to greet them, he found his 'hello' being overpowered by a somewhat scratchy voice, slightly deep but not quite. "That's mine." Vizayas heard. It emanated from the large boy in the center. He didn't want trouble, and they all looked quite starving. He didn't think it would be a bad idea to offer it to them, and he had a hunch that though he might be their leader, the boy didn't share the spoils as much as he hogged them for himself. Vizayas knew that he had to play this carefully if he wanted to do the right thing.

"You look like you all need it more. You can have it so long as you share it among yourselves." Vizayas said. He wondered how much resistance the demand would incur. He WAS there first, and by logic that meant he had the right to make such demands. The boy's eyebrows curled downwards towards his rather large nose as he took a step forward, knelt down, and dug his fingers into the roasted goose.

Picking it up, pudgy brought it up to his face and bit into it, chewing with loud smacks. He muttered something with his mouth full, but Vizayas couldn't quite comprehend it. It sounded something like 'I don't care' with some sort of other unpleasant words mixed in. Vizayas could only watch as the boy turned his back to him and began to walk away.

by **Vizayas** on June 6th, 2015, 4:47 am

One of the boys at his side spoke up in a pleading voice. It was the scrawny one. "He said to share. Give me and my brother some." Vizayas noticed that his words had caused a bit of conflict to happen within the group. He was quite irritated by now with the fat boy's greed and hostility.

The biggest and baddest of them all had no desire to share. He finished another noisy gulp. "Ain't gettin' none." He said. "It's all mine."

Vizayas was having trouble keeping his composure by now. His face contorted into disgust, and he was starting to get a bit angry. "Hey!" He shouted. "Share, or I'm gonna-"

"Or you're gonna what?" The boss spoke over his shoulder. "I'll floor you."

Vizayas knew he was outmatched, but he couldn't do anything by himself. Feeling a bit intimidated by the boy's stare, he wasn't strong enough, he knew he wasn't. He had a bit of an idea though. One that might work, or might end up with him getting hurt. It was possible... If I can just get the other two to turn on him, they'll get fed. Don't know how tough it'll be. He's repulsive, probably leading by his strength. If I can get them on my side... Having a good idea on how to go about it, he spoke.

"You two!" Vizayas shouted. "Stand up for yourselves, we can take him!" The two boys both froze, and then turned around as the words made their mark. They looked to one another from around the boss, but they each received an intimidating scowl.

"Don't you even think about it!" He growled. "You're gonna help me punch his face in now tha' he's said that." Boss boy started walking towards Vizayas, who froze. It was starting, and it was something he wasn't used to. Sure, he could talk big but he didn't stand a chance in a real fight.

He swallowed the lump in his chest and took a step back out of caution as the boy neared. "I've got him distracted!" Vizayas yelled.

The two boys struggled with the idea of helping, and looked to one another, then back to Vizayas and the other kid. They both took a step back, and began to run away. Vizayas took this as the cue nothing had gone according to plan, and began to run away himself. However, as soon as he turned around he felt something grab him by the back of the shirt and yank him backwards.

Vizays felt a pressure on his throat as the fabric strangled him, forcing him to gag as he hit the ground. He struggled, throwing his arm into the air at the looming brute and trying to punch him. However, it was weak and glanced away unceremoniously. He didn't know what options he had, so he gazed into the villainous eyes of his attacker and began to control his breathing and concentrate. Visualizing his own face, he pictured the djed going over it, changing the color into a shade of red, dark red like blood. He began to will this change to take place.

Vizayas' face was beginning to shift as the events proceeded, his skin tingling and informing him of the progression. It was a skin deep transformation that required a surprising amount of effort given the circumstances, but it was the only thing he could do to possibly prevent himself from having his face smashed in by his assailant. The boy lowered himself upon Vizayas, throwing a knee upon him. Then, as he felt the unbearable weight and pressure of the child titan crush him, he was grabbed by the collar and yanked from the ground by his neck.

Ticks had passed, and his transformation was partially along. It was as if he were covered in a red wave swirling over his face, staining it with red. The color was a contrast to his skin, which was somewhat pale due to being kept indoors for most of his life. It was at this moment that he knew he had to speak. "Wait, I'm real sick!" Vizayas screamed as the boy set the roasted duck aside on the pavement, arching his fist back. It was extremely difficult for him to maintain his concentration, and the image in his mind while fear threatened to overtake him. The very words he spoke bordered on casting his transformation aside.

The boy looked at him, and the face of anger and greed turned to one of confusion and disgust. Vizayas face was quite revolting with the idea that he might be carrying some sort of disease. However, he saw his opening. Vizayas shut his mouth and brought his saliva to the forefront, swishing it around with his tongue. Then, he breathed through his nose and spat, ejecting the saliva straight into the boy's face.

by **Vizayas** on June 6th, 2015, 4:48 am

"Ugh!" The boy reeled. his disgust turning into fear. He let Vizayas fall to the ground and stood, beginning to wipe his face with his rags. This was the moment that Vizayas needed to achieve the upper hand, and he seized it! Vizayas rolled to his feet, bending at his knees. Then, he sprang towards the boy, with a jumping motion that ended up being more of a hop. As he began to focus on something else entirely, his mind let go of the image and the transformation began to unravel. The red began to dissipate quickly and slowly revert to the original form his djed had began in prior to the transformation.

Vizayas punched the boy straight in the gut. His fist sent a shockwave across the boy's stomach, but otherwise did very little to hurt him. "Ow! Get away from me!" The boy yelled, turning and letting the rag go. He sniveled, almost crying. "You're disgusting!"

Vizayas breathed heavily, a sneer on his face as the boy began to ran away. "Now you're gonna die!" He yelled. He picked up the half-eaten goose and threw it in the boy's direction. "And don't forget your petching bird!" It bounced on the ground, covered in more filth and grime. He was angry, because he was scared. Vizayas was surprised at his own choice of words, partially breaking him out of his emotional spell. He breathed heavily, his heart racing.

"Bastard..." He muttered, breathing heavily. The boy kept going, leaving behind the bird shyke. Then, he thought of the kids that ran away. What happened to them? He whirled his arms, turning his hips and gazing down the street in the other direction They were nowhere in sight. Then, he felt bad that in his arrogance he threw the bird, soiling it even further. They were probably long gone by now. Vizayas couldn't blame them for running away. If they failed, they would have faced the wrath of their oppressor. If they helped Vizayas, they could have lost, and if they helped beat Vizayas up, what kind of people would they be?

Then, he thought of the purple smoke man. Was he still there? He turned the other way - no, he wasn't. Good, he didn't like the idea of being seen right now. Vizayas was about to march off and find his way back home when a solemn and young feminine voice rang out from across the street. "M-mister..." She said. Vizayas shot her a glance, a small girl. She was covered in dirt, had a colorful yet faded dress covered in rips and tears. A member of their group?

"You aren't sick, are you?" She looked nervous and scared, even as she spoke.

"N-no." Vizayas responded, stuttering. It was a blank response, without thinking. Mentally, he cursed and grew upset that he had revealed a secret. He breathed hot air from his nose, the tingling sensatation in his face long gone by now. His Morphing spell had faded, and his face had become its original color. "It's an illusion." He said. A lie, for his magic was very real, but a believable lie to most in Alvadas.

"I thought so." She said, shyly. Her gaze was torn away from him, focusing on the stones paving the street. "My name's Molly. Are you nice? You seem nice..." She wasn't looking at him, but she had supreme innocence in her voice, something Vizayas had never really experienced before.

"I believe, I believe I'm nice." Vizayas said. It was a question that seemed tough to answer at first, given his circumstances. He was worried that the boy he scared the shyke out of might come back. "I need to get going..." He said, as much as he wanted to keep talking to her. He really just wanted to go home.

"Okay." She said. "See you...later."

She completely perplexed Vizayas. What a strange girl. Without thinking, he gave her his name. "I'm Vizayas. Nice to meet you... Molly." It was stupid, magic was despised. Why tell her this? What sort of spell was she casting on him, was she a wizard? No... Vizayas was just loose lipped, and he knew it. "Okay, goodbye." He said.

"Goodbye," Molly said, waving at him softly without so much as a smile. Vizayas turned his back to her and walked away, thinking about what had happened today while still being a bit on edge.

by **Fable** on June 6th, 2015, 9:47 pm

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Flashback The Crew: Prologue